Page 18 of Bred By Fafnir

eleven

Lenora

The ride into the village center is… well, I feel like I’m going to vomit. Everyone has been kind so far, particularly the males in their grunting, brutish way, but I’ve yet to see a female or see anyone that isn’t being run off by Valoryx or Fafnir. A tingle runs down the back of my spine as we lope between buildings, the entire trip taken at a slower pace than usual, reluctantly even, which doesn’t bode well for me.

The giant at my back has been quieter than usual, which means his few grunted responses, barked commands, or shortnon-answeranswers are nonexistent. After last night, I’d hoped I’d broken through his tough shell, at least a little. I’m content for now, telling myself he’s simply focused on the hunt ahead. His Tarzan spear strapped to his back as the odd greenish hued night sky bears down on us. A foreshadowing of Thrymus’s return, or so he said last nightbefore clamming up tighter than my sisters when they stole my lipstick, smashing it around on their walls forart. A fond, if not slightly sad, smile lifts my lips at the memory.

It seems the festival is something to do with honoring and asking for protection from Thrymus himself, God of Winter and Resilience. If the strong Bhaurnul people need protection from a deity, I can’t fathom how much I’ll need to survive a winter here. Looking back on my meeting at the Solar Breeding Agency, it would’ve been smart to ask maybe a handful more questions before agreeing, but my brain had been a mess at the time, and all in all… I’m enjoying myself here. The looming, crushing anxiety I felt at the station is a distant memory. My cheeks flush despite the bone chilling wind. If last night was any indication, the whole being bred thing won’t be terrible either.

The hunt always begins before first light and lasts until the participating men have brought back enough meat for a feast befitting Thrymus. Meanwhile, much to Faf’s displeasure, I’ll be helping the women. He’d all but pinned me to the wall again when I told him I won't attend as a scared, hidden little human. I’ll take part as anyone else would, if they’ll have me. His pride in my statement had won out over his need to keep me plastered to the back of Valoryx for the next twenty-four zentics. My thighs ache at the thought.

We pass between two large glacial rocks, and again, the beauty of this planet isn’t lost on me. Wide open landscapes backdropped by monstrous glacial mountains and lush snow tipped forests with trees that look familiar enough. It could almost be mistaken for a snowy Old Earth if you ignored the tiny dot they call a sun, keeping the land dimmer than the daylight I’m used to. The nights seem…thick, a darkness I once hadn’t thought unimaginable. If it wasn’t for the stars dotting the greenish sky, it would be anxiety inducing. Familiar enough to feel safe, alien enough to remind me it's not… not me for at least. Not without him. That’s never been more evident than when I look at the large animal hide bag strapped to Valoryx, laden with cloaks, furs, and heavy padded lining for beds, so I don’t freeze to death in the night. Fafnir, on the other hand, only brought his spear.

The festival lasts from the beginning of the hunt to the first light of the next day, which means everyone camps outside together, taking turns monitoring some fire I don’t know the significance of. Faf has already spoken more than he has my entire stay up until this point, and I could tell he’d rather but pulling out his fur with tweezers than continue.

Valoryx roars our arrival, the beast’s chest swelling, his form tensing with every bit the regal pride of his distant lion kin. His rushed lope turns into a lazy stroll, like the lap Old Earth horses used to take after doing their tricks and jumps in the ring. Old Earth seemed to be really fascinated with animal performances, but I suppose if you aren’t concerned with your dying planet and horrifying political climate, there wouldn’t be much else to do.

All eyes turn to us, and at my back, Fafnir tenses. My heart kicks up to a race in my chest as his hand settles on my thigh with a harsh grip. Males lining the circular walkway around a giant unlit fireplace thump their chests with respect, making that odd bellowing greeting they have before. My eyes turn to Fafnir above me, watching as he nods in dismissal, everyone going about themselves as if they were hand waved by royalty. I hike a brow at the male; he ignores the question in my eyes, clicking in the back of his throat, issuing some unspoken command to his mount. I release my hold on Valoryx’s mane as he lowers, stretching his hind above his head in a low crouch.

“The hunt will begin soon, Valkyra. Dismount, I must light the hearth.”

My eyes flash to the loads of Bhaurnul people joining our small group around the colossal pyre. The land around isn’t paved so much, but heavily used, with more dirt than grass. Hesitation fills me for only a second before Faf’s lips nudge my ear, making goosebumps break over my flesh. “Chin high, little female. I will join you shortly, yes?”

I give him a curt nod, steeling myself as I let myself slide down Valoryx’s neck a little, getting myself as close to the ground as I can. Even lowered like this, it's an ankle jarring drop, and I refuse to stumble in front of his people. Gasps fill the crowd, followed by hushed murmuring in his native language as I grip the crown of horns on the mount, steadying myself before dropping.

When the murmuring gets louder, Val lets out a warning growl. I huff a little before I turn to him, scratching the top of his nose the way he likes. The growl doesn’t turn into his normal resonant purr, but he pushes into my hand for a moment before nudging me further away so he can stand. I take a few steps back, blending with the giants making up the crowd instead of standing apart from them. My eyes cutting toward Fafnir, not surprised to find him watching me with the oddest look in his eyes. A sharp pang of longing… of pride fills my chest to see the way the others react to him.

Not only with reverence, but with no small amount of fear.

The Oozarians weren’t exaggerating. My male is honored among his people. He’s strong, and my hand slaps to my chest at the nagging, swelling warmth there. I take a steady breath and ensure my chin is held as he wants it, so that maybe that pride in his eyes might be there for me alone. So that the others, still hushed in their murmuring, might see that I’m worthy of a male like him. As if I’m worthy of bearing his young, even though I’m notbig, or particularlystrong, Ihave nohorns, war beast, orhooves.

I had expected to feel a great deal of inferiority coming here, prepared for it even. Dreaded it all throughout the night instead of sleeping. Not even my loose, stated body could truly rest. An older looking female approaches him, and despite her obvious signs of age, she holds herself as high as any of the males around us. Her size is not much different as she lifts the burning torch in her hand to Fafnir with a nod. He nods back, his eyes flashing to me, and I can’t help but smile. Then can’t help but smile bigger as he tries and nearly fails not to return it. How could I feel inferior next to him? When he looks at me like I’m bigger, stronger than any of the giants who threaten to swallow me in the crowd.

Looks at me like I’mhis.

Even though I’m not.

When he rips his eyes from mine, it's to turn them to the sky, the deepening green storm on the horizon threatening to blot out what little light we have. His strong, corded arm slams upward as he releases a bellow befitting a god of war. Befitting a god, bringing a harsh and unforgiving winter. The crowd joins him in a deafening symphony of power, of strength, men and women alike, hands slammed to the sky, roaring with everything they’ve got. I can’t stop the bubble of energy, of excitement, from sinking into my bones. I’m thrumming with it as I lift my arms, my own scream joining theirs. It's small, but it's there. I scream with everything I have until my throat burns and my breath runs thin. Until tears crest my eyes and all I can do is think aboutthem, about Mom and my sisters. About how Dad left and why he did it.

They keep bellowing, so I do too.

When the sound finally trails off, I’m panting wildly, but so are they. My head light from the lack of air as Fafnir tosses the torch on the pyre. A monstrous fire roaring to life in the tall, proud hearth, its rock sides carved with symbols and pictures, stories of the gods ithonors. Where the world was deafening before, everything is silent now, but only for a moment. All eyes turn toward a far mountain in the distance, and I wish I could see what they do. My feet carry me from the crowd, trying to get a look as a far-off braying bellow answers ours.

Other villages lighting pyres of their own.

When that one ends, releasing to the stormy sky, another one joins, and a crackle of electrified energy finds me again, heating my very bones, desperate to see it. A small yelp leaves me as I’m plucked off the ground, my breath whooshing from me. My head snaps to see the smiling, teary face of a Bhaurnul female as she hands me off to another. My heart is thundering, the domino roaring in the distance lost to me for a moment, until I seehim. Fafnir takes hold of me next, nodding in thanks to the females who passed me through the riotous crowd. One I’d been heading straight into the heart of in my desire to see the flames. Hooves beat the ground as Fafnir settles me not just on Valoryx by the fire, apart from everyone else, but on hislap. Cradled there, my wide teary eyes meet his only for him to nod toward the distance as another roaring hearth flares to life.

twelve

Lenora

The willing and able-bodied males had ridden out immediately after the last village lit their flames. Mere ontics before their small sun made its first wink over the mountains. My hands grip a broom far too large for me to use with any true skill as I drag it over the entrance to what I guess is their city hall. Mostly, I was given anothing jobbecause everyone else was doing something and I wanted to help. Uncomfortable with sitting on the side while everyone else prepared. I don’t mind too much; it gives me a much-needed ontic to gather my thoughts.

Bhaurnul females are much like their male counterparts, every bit as large, maybe a bit slimmer, a bit more graceful in their lines. The fundamental difference seems to be that they keep their horns filed down, unlike the males stretching curved ones. I had expected thereto be more children, but there are only two. I watch them as they play, chasing each other through the natural wood columns, occasionally skidding and wiping out on uncoordinated hooves. My heart does an odd flip to think that in a few years our—Fafnir’schild will do the same. It's an odd, bittersweet feeling I hadn’t expected. One I’m thankful Faf isn’t here to watch me sort through.

“Bhaurnul pregnancies are long and hard, so you won’t see many children.”

My head snaps toward a female, her arms laden with butcher blades. I just nod. “Are one of them yours?”

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